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The Spider-Man Dream

So the other night, I fell asleep listening to Radiohead’s “No Surprises” and I had a dream that I was Spider-Man.

For the first part of the dream, it was awesome: retired from fighting crime having restored peace and justice to the city, I had bought a house out in the rambling suburbs. My closest friend and trusted girlfriend were helping me renovate the house – both knew my secret and swore to guard it. Meanwhile, I was asked by the Avengers to come aboard as an independent contractor, a huge boost for my career. On the personal front, I was planning to ask my girlfriend to move in with me once the house was completed. Everything was wonderful.

Or so I thought.

In the midst of all this happiness, an old friend from high school – let’s call him Craig – showed up on my doorstep. Craig had gone into the military and was transitioning from being abroad in the fight to being back on the homefront and needed a place to stay. Having this big house, I was easily persuaded to let him bunk with me.

Easily – yes, perhaps all too easily. The intrusion of a stranger onto my happy band of three should have caused a huge disruption. Craig was a former football player, a hulking, huge man, larger than life, and his years of military service added further roughness to his appearance. Always been known as a bully, his very visage was enough to cause anxiety in all who beheld him. Emphasis on “was.”

Because as soon as he entered our three collective lives, everything took on a strange, idyllic peace. Work on the house slowed and finally came to a halt. Time passed as though in a dream, or maybe even a Country Time Lemonade commercial. My good friend, my girlfriend – it seemed as though they forgot what they were doing there, maybe they even forgot who I was!

Clinging to the last fibers of my sanity, I confronted Craig, who seemed as blissful and content as my comrades. He finally confessed that he had indeed served in the military, but in an experimental branch. He allowed himself to submit to the testing of new chemical weapons. He had undergone pheromone injections, and as a result, his body – his aura – gave off a calming, sedative presence. He could – and had – walk into a room full of enemy soldiers and they wouldn’t fight back. He could shake the hand of a despot with his right hand and stab him in the throat with his left, without even so much as the bat of an eyelash.

But Craig felt his powers could be used for the better. Taken in by his own seductive powers, he felt the world could benefit from a bit more calm. He fervently believed that if everyone could be exposed to the pheromone, there would be no more war. No more crime, no more anger, and ultimately, no more need for superheroes like myself.

Going AWOL from the service, Craig had sought me out because of my interest in science, never knowing of my secret identity. He was convinced that I was the perfect person to receive the second round of test injections. He had come planning to kidnap me and force me into the program!

I tried to fight back but his powers had taken an effect on my own! I could barely climb away, and just as I woke up, Craig seized my body, unconscious from a fall, in his larger-than-life hands and prepared to carry me away to forever change the fate of Spider-Man.

It’s no coincidence that I should dream about Peter Parker.He was born in Forest Hills, my first home in the city!